


I Can't Hear You

by Whiskma



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton X Reader - Freeform, Deaf Clint Barton, Hurt Clint Barton, I Had To, I'm Sorry, Other, as is a bit of tradition let's be honest, but i'm keeping it ambiguous enough for everyone to enjoy, but this will help me get this energy out now lol, cause if i don't imma die, clint is gonna get hurt, depictions of blood, hearing loss, i got some News about the new hawkeye show and i just..., i love laura barton and those kids, i was informed some extra tags would help, just a damn longing, just let me have this plz, obv this is more MCU clint barton, physical injuries, reader x clint barton, there is no disrespect here, this is loosely based off of the 2012 hawkeye run by matt fraction, yes i know he has a wife in the mcu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskma/pseuds/Whiskma
Summary: Everything just went wrong so quickly. He thought he was winning this fight, defending those in the building and making sure every single one of those thick-spoken bastards paid... And now he was lying on the ground, unable to right himself while starring at his own blood while it dripped from his chin.He couldn't hear anything, not even your footsteps. Not even your voice or the way your breath shook in rage. But he did see how you looked seconds from snapping, and he wanted so desperately to tell you to not move. To not do anything that could get you hurt... But he couldn't even formulate a proper sentence to tell you any of this."Stay." You told him. He wasn't sure if it was a scream or a whisper, but he rose a hand to you before it was taken by Kate to keep him steady... You were out for blood.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Reader
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

His knees hit the ground before his hands. They slammed against the hard concrete of the upper stair before he managed to catch himself on his hands from tumbling down. It was agonizing, the ringing in his ears didn't want to die down and the culprit was already running down the stairs to inform whoever the hell had sanctioned this attack that... what? What could they tell them? That they'd deafened a man that relied on sight? It didn't seem like much of a win, but Clint was already going through several motions of sickness and dizziness now that his head felt slightly full. Nothing this bad had happened to him in a while.

Sure there was that blast to his side from years ago that he got over, and yeah there was the whole mind thing, but based on pain alone... Clint wasn't sure if this was the icing on the cake or just another layer to his crumbling, stale stack of flour and eggs that might as well have been as close to a cake as he could get. He just wanted that damn ringing to _stop_. He wanted it gone so he could stand back up, get his bow, nock an arrow, and send the bastard that had done this to hell before he collapsed... But he'd already collapsed and he was stuck. He was just _stuck_ there while he assumed the fight rose on without him.

Clint made one attempt and only one attempt at standing. What ended up happening was him stumbling backward, hitting a wall, and crumpling down back into a ball onto his knees, his hands clutching his sticky, blood-spilling ears. He felt the air leave his lungs and his throat vibrate as if he'd let out a noise of pain, but did he hear it? Of course not. He couldn't hear anything.

He had no way to tell the time except how things seemed to be getting darker around him... but that could also be from blood loss. He could be about to pass out from all he knew. Though he didn't feel light-headed, oh no... His head felt full of blood, and just moving made the ringing come back again.

You had to be alright. You just had to be. You and your odd powers. You wouldn't get caught in a trap as he did. You were smarter than he was, even though you'd always glare at him and then set him straight how he had his own kind of intelligence or something like that...

Clint took a moment to breathe and another to blink down at the mess he'd made of himself. His blood had gotten smeared on the ground since he stood up, but now the bleeding had stopped. He was still stuck in that ball on the floor, his knees keeping him upright enough that his head wasn't on the ground. And he saw where his sneaker had slipped in the blood from before to create a small trail that led to him. His hands were still clutching his ears, his fingers firmly around the shells of cartilage and unmoving. He stared at the floor with wide eyes, just hoping that someone would find him already. That's all he was good for. Being rescued. Never the hero--

God-- He could already see you raising that brow of your's at him, the one that always made him sigh out and look off before you told him all the things he could never believe. How he was good. How he'd saved so many. He wanted to tell you about all the lives he took, all the times he could have done so much more. But you never wanted to hear it. Maybe that was why he loved you so much. You didn't judge him for any of the things he did... except maybe when he was drinking coffee well into the evening.

And there it was. A smile. A smile only you could give him. All at the memory of you. He was being so dramatic about this, but he still wasn't able to move and he still felt like this was the most splitting headache of his life...

Clint's eyes flicked up when he saw movement from the stairway that led to him. He could barely see anything beyond that, but soon you were coaxing his head up and looking into his eyes. He'd seen you get mad before. He'd seen you get upset before. But this was different. He'd only seen that look once before, and it sent a chill down his spine then just as it did now.

You didn't say a word, you just ran your hand at his cheek and he found his new focal point. Your eyes were everywhere on his face. He could tell when you looked at his odd wound when your eyelids twitched open more in a split second. The rage he felt in your hands while you caressed him so softly spoke volumes to him. He tried to speak, and he saw your recoil a bit, and he figured from the slight pressure in his chest that he'd shouted by accident.

_I'm okay._

He saw you swallow, how your eyes got wider and how you licked at your bottom lip in consideration of his condition and who had done this to him. Clint rose a hand that was dark in the absence of light and found your cheek. You pushed into his hand and he saw your jaw work before you spoke. He missed what you said in how you moved away from his hand and turned your face just slightly to the side. He tried to speak again, that same pressure in his chest as before. This time, though, you didn't recoil away or even flinch. You just set your jaw and stood up, running off in a blaze of anger.

_I can't hear you._

Clint outstretched his hand and was surprised when it was taken by Kate, her eyes now catching his attention while she tried to speak to him. He just blinked at her and swallowed before slowly rising up like she was instructing him to do. He caught sight of his bow and his discarded quiver with his arrows scattered this way and that. He'd taken an awful fall, and it could have been worse if he hadn't caught himself just before the steps.

Clint felt a hand pat his shoulder and he looked over to see Kate doing her very best to enunciate her words so they reached her lips.

_It's okay. No one else was hurt._

If that was true, then why did you leave? It was all such a blur and Clint could barely make it down the steps without Kate's help, he was so tired and sore already...

The numbered doors they passed only served to give Clint more anxiety about you just leaving. Where were you going? You couldn't possibly know where those guys were, even with those odd powers you were gifted with. How your eyes could glow with the rest of your body, your clothes flapping in the power you possessed as you stood over him just before a large hand made a grab for him.

How many times had you saved his sorry ass?

_Go to sleep, Clint._

He heard your voice but he couldn't see you. Where were you?

"CLINT--" Kate barely managed to grab Clint before he plummeted down to the ground. She was just trying to help him down to the ambulance she'd called, but good God he couldn't have made it even if he tried.

Where the hell were you...


	2. Chapter 2

The bandages around his head were tight and they made his head itch, but that was the least of his concerns. His eyes were downcast and at his knees and sneaker, unable to think of anything else but how he couldn't hear a thing... and how he had to rely on a skill he hadn't used since early childhood. He was so pissed off at himself, he could scream. Couldn't hear it, but he could definitely scream and kick out and... other things associated with a temper tantrum.

You still hadn't come back, and he was already more worried than he'd been seeing you stalk off like that... he could practically see what the other guy was going to look like once you were done with him, but Clint didn't want that! He wanted you here, home safe while he did his damndest to... adjust. That was all he could do. He could sign what he needed, but he'd gotten rusty over the years from not having to use it. He'd gotten so used to having his hearing healed over time that now it was gone again... Until he got specialized hearing aids so he could hear again, he would be living in a silent world for a while.

Sometime after he'd woken up, he'd been sent home. It was such a breeze in time, but it didn't seem to be slowing down. It was such a blur that whole day without someone there with him. You wouldn't answer a call, a text, not even a call of your name after he'd woken up from an unintentional nap. You were down a long hallway and he was running after you, wishing so desperately that you would turn around and face him--

Clint's tired eyes stared up at the ceiling and he tried to manifest your image above him to try and call you home. Nothing was working, and he was willing to try literally anything to get you home to him.

Lucky was there for him, though. That dog would remain with him come hell or high water, as the saying goes...

_Good boy, Luck._

Clint spoke softly to not disturb the older dog in his sleep. Lucky was missing an eye, but this dog was the best dog he could ever ask for, and the best pal on this earth.

But the dog's head shot up and Clint felt the low rumble of a growl along his stomach where Lucky was currently laying. Clint's head snapped back and his eyes saw an approaching figure that Lucky didn't like one bit. He jumped off of his master and let out a-- A whine? Oh...

_I'm home._

You crouched down in front of Lucky with your hand running and rubbing along the old boy's neck and chest, just where Lucky liked to be petted. You looked exactly as you had just before you left... literally, your clothes hadn't changed. There wasn't a speck of blood on you like there had been on Clint, there wasn't even a look of anger in your eyes anymore, and there sure wasn't a bandage anywhere on you that he could see. You looked perfectly fine.

_Katie told me._

Clint missed what else it was you said because he had come to a stand and wrapped his arms firmly around you and could no longer read your lips. You had your arms around him in another moment, and Clint just... he just sighed out. You were okay. Not a scratch on you.

_Don't do that again._

Clint gave an imitation of the look you'd sometimes give him when he would do something stupid. He saw the recognition in your eyes and then your smile.

_I'm serious._

He held you by the shoulders. This was his responsibility. Not your's, not Kate's. His.

_I won't need to._

Clint could just tell by the air you held that you'd done something, but with the line of work he was once in, he couldn't judge you for it. He wouldn't have, anyways. He was just glad you were home.


End file.
